


eyes open wide (blinded by the sun now)

by writing_addict



Series: a whole sky of different stars: fma au collection [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Edward Elric, Adorable Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Alpha Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - How to Train Your Dragon Fusion, And everything changes, Dragon & Human Interactions, Dragon Riders, Dragonology, Gen, How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World Spoilers, Kid Fic, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Post-How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World, Pre-Canon, Protective Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Reincarnation, Slice of Life, Sort Of, edward elric loves dragons, hiccup chose edward elric as his successor, in that THE DRAGONS ARE BACK, in which the dragons resurface from the hidden world the same year that edward elric is born, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18480538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: "The eyes staring at him were the farthest thing from human he’d ever seen in his (very short) life, and by far the most beautiful; they were a strange, unearthly poison-green, glowing bright through the shadows of the forest, unblurring even in the rain. Ed could only stare as an otherworldly blue glow flared to life between those eyes, illuminating small, triangular spines and twin slits in a…aface.No,he realized as thethingmoved forward, green eyes glowing like willow-the-wisps in the darkness of the storm,a…amuzzle.Because thething…the thing was adragon."Or:Dragons return to the world of man in the year 1899, shocking an already tumultuous continent as these beasts of legend suddenly appear in their midst. A Night Fury finds a small child lost in the woods in the year 1903, and guides them home to their mother, and stays with the child as friend and protector...and their friendship changes everything and nothing all at once.





	1. Forbidden Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I know, I know--I should be working on Ignis Aurum Probat. I promise you, the next chapter is coming; writer's block is just being an absolute monster right now. Hopefully, by writing out this idea I've had bouncing around in my head for a while, it'll come more easily. Also, conflicted by the very air i breathe updates tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that! Oh, and the title is from Sticks And Stones by Jonsi from the first movie.
> 
> A few notes on this AU:  
> Ed is not exactly Hiccup reincarnated; rather, Hiccup chose him from Valhalla as the next champion of dragons in his efforts to finally create peace between their two worlds and shared some of his memories with him  
> This is also why Toothless decides that it's time for the dragons to resurface from the Hidden World, to see whether the world is ready for them to return  
> Toothless regards Ed more as his hatchling than his brother  
> ED AND HICCUP ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. NOT REMOTELY. TOOTHLESS DOES NOT LOVE ED BECAUSE HE'S HICCUP.  
> Amestris somehow comes across the Viking names for the dragon species and uses them. Don't ask me why or how.  
> Soulbonds, which will be elaborated on in the second chapter, are a more potent version of the bonds most riders had with their dragons in Viking times. The Berkian Six were the first true soulbonds, the strongest of which were Hiccup and Toothless; soulbonds are still extremely rare but get more attention now because the press is a thing.  
> Light Furies and Night-Lights are out there!  
> Toothless willingly destroys the self-flying fin Hiccup made him before he meets Ed. More on this in the last chapter.  
> THIS IS ABOUT 500 YEARS AFTER THE EVENTS OF THE HIDDEN WORLD. NEW BERK STILL EXISTS, HIDDEN FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD AND GUARDING THE HIDDEN WORLD'S ENTRANCE. THE LIGHT FURY AND TOOTHLESS'S FIRST HATCHLINGS REMAIN TO WATCH OVER THEM.
> 
> That's everything, I think...hope you enjoy!

The first time Ed saw the dragon, he was four.

He had decided that he was going to go on an _adventure_ , an adult at the ripe old age of four sunlit years. He’d packed three whole sandwiches, a cookie, and an extra blanket-cape in case it rained and he had to camp in the _wilderness_ or hide from wild _Gronckles_ or both, and set off down the narrow brook that ran past the bottom of their hill and into a blur of trees. It was a quiet sort of decision: that if his dad got to leave and go on _adventures_ ( _running with dragons,_ Mama would say fondly, almost a little sadly, _flying high and far and fast to protect you and your brother)_ and see the huge, practically (to a four-year-old at least) _infinite_ world outside of tiny, boring (if forever safe and comforting) Risembool, he could too. And maybe he’d even find Dad out there! Who knew? It was an _adventure_ , the _opposite_ of boring, and that was all Ed cared about.

There wasn’t any anger—not yet. “Never coming back” wasn’t exactly something Ed figured out until a year later, when his birthday came and went without even a letter, a sign that said “I know you and Mama and Al exist and I still love you”. No, all that existed was _excitement,_ and the knowledge that there was someone out there in the big wide world who was restless and curious and loved exploring and dragons too.

Winry didn’t really get it. She loved the dragons, even though her mom and dad hadn’t grown up with them and people were still confused on where they came from and if they actually _were_ dragons (at which Ed scoffed, because what else could they possibly be? All of them had scales, lots of them breathed fire, and loads of them could _fly)._ From what Ed had been told, dragons being more than myths and fairytales had only been a thing for a few years; Mama had whispered stories of a time _before_ the dragons, when birds were the only things that flew the skies and the idea of giant, winged reptiles breathing fire was something people only talked about in legends, like mermaids and pirates. Ed couldn’t imagine living in a time like that, without friendly wild Nadders prancing through the markets every month or Terrible Terrors squawking in the trees every morning when he woke up. It sounded _awful._

So Winry loved the dragons, but _loads_ of people loved the dragons. If you could coax a nice one into sticking around for a bit, they could help you with farming or bring people flocking to your stores (they didn’t get a lot of the really _cool_ dragons people from the newspapers and fancy science magazines from the big cities, like the one that could light itself on fire or the two-headed ones, but they had Deadly Nadder flocks and Terrors and sometimes a Gronckle would wander through Risembool, and those were awesome too!). Ed had heard about places where the dragons raided and blew people up and how dangerous they were, people saying they should be hunted or rounded up or put under control, but there was none of that in Risembool. The only thing close was when a well-meaning Gronckle had fed a pig rocks, not knowing that pigs didn’t _eat_ rocks.

Everyone (in Risembool, at least) loved the dragons. But Winry didn’t have that weird _itch_ Ed felt sometimes, like everything and everyone was moving too slowly and the ground shouldn’t be right beneath his feet. She didn’t understand why Ed loved maps and stuck them up on his walls whenever he could find one, or why he collected dragon scales. Mama always smiled and laughed when he came home with a new scale, but she was—well, she was _Mama,_ and she hadn’t _grown up_ with the dragons, and she didn’t seem to have that _itch_ either. And Al…Al was too _little_ to play with all the time, and just as likely to try chewing or folding up one of Ed’s map fragments as he was to help Ed pin it up in his bedroom.

He’d come _back,_ of course, he assured himself as he marched off down the brook, his house fading into the distance. He’d run out of sandwiches and find a massively cool dragon and play with it for hours and then it would fly him home, but he’d _come home._ Mama and Al probably wouldn’t even know he was gone, or just think he was playing outside—which he was! Just…adventurously. With more exploring! Ooh, and maybe he could make a map out of tree bark and fight rabbit monsters in the woods and conquer the forests and—

A fat raindrop smacked into his forehead and he yelped, going cross-eyed and smudging his hand across his brow. A scowl crossed his face at the sight of it—of _course_ something like this would happen—and he glanced around, hands worrying at the strap of his bag.

It was cloudier than he’d thought when he’d first packed the sandwiches and cookie, he noticed after maybe twenty minutes of walking; hesitantly, he stood on his tiptoes and peered up at the big gray clouds starting to crowd the milky-gray sky, squinting up at it as his heart sank. Was it going to rain? _Please don’t let it really rain,_ he begged of nothing and no one in particular as a light drizzle started—that blur of trees was getting closer and closer, and he _really_ wanted to explore it, and the rain would ruin _everything…_

 _…_ But he wasn’t going to go back, he told himself firmly after a moment, pausing to set down his backpack and tug the blanket out of it. Brave explorers weren’t put off by a little rain, especially not brave explorers who were looking for _dragons._ The rain could—could _fight_ him, he decided, kicking determinedly at a pebble as he pulled the blanket up and over his shoulders. He was going to get to that forest and explore it no matter _what._

Another raindrop hit him within the next minute, and he pulled it over his head with a grumble, trying to quiet the stupid, babyish fear pricking at his insides as he started walking again, trotting determinedly toward the tree-line. _There could be monsters in those clouds,_ he thought warily, peeking fearfully up at the dark fog steadily setting in from beneath the hem of his blanket-cape. _Are there dragons that fly in really stormy weather?_ Maybe he should’ve taken the special magic walking-stick he found yesterday after all. No one would attack him if he had _that._

_Or maybe I should’ve just stayed home with Mama and Al._

The ground was getting muddy now, but the trees were _so, so close,_ close enough that Ed could make out the darker pines within them. He tried to ignore the way his legs were burning, the grass slipping beneath his feet as he broke into a run, tripping over roots and rocks and scrambling for the safety of the branches. _Brave adventurer,_ he reminded himself, looking back over his shoulder and trying to swallow against the burn of tears in his eyes when he realized he couldn’t see his house clearly anymore, that there was nothing but open plains and forest for what looked like forever and ever and ever. _You’re a brave adventurer, just like Dad, and you’re gonna find awesome dragons and—and do amazing stuff and you just gotta get to the woods without being a scaredy-cat and running home._

_Brave adventurer._

Thunder boomed and he didn’t bother trying to hold back a cry of terror, running faster as fear bit and scratched at his insides.

_Brave adventurer._

The rain was coming down harder and harder and harder, soaking him to the skin, to the bone, and he could barely _see—_

_Brave adventurer._

The edge of the forest was there, _trees_ were around him now, bone-white birches and dark rowans and—

And Ed tripped on a root, shrieking as he was sent sprawling in the mud. Tears began to slide down his cheeks as he staggered to his feet, pulling the blanket more tightly around his body with a whimper; his chest and knees stung and his face felt all sticky with mud and Mama was gonna be _so mad_ that he’d gotten his clothes and the nice blanket all dirty. _Brave,_ he tried to remind himself, staggering deeper into the thicket of trees. _Brave. Brave. You’re brave._

He didn’t feel brave. He felt lost and alone and it was really _scary._ He was supposed to be out here exploring but now he just felt dumb and he was muddy and cold and icky and he wanted Mama and he wanted to go _home—_

It was about then that Ed stopped, looked around, and realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was or what direction he’d come from—or how to get home.

 _No—no, nonono._ His legs, wobbly and cold and bruised and _tired,_ gave out, and he crumpled to the ground with a whimper. _I wanna go back I want my mom I wanna go_ home. He rubbed fruitlessly at the tears gliding down his face, succeeding only in smudging mud and dirt all over it, and whimpered at the gross feeling of it. He liked playing in mud, yeah, but that was _after_ it rained or by the streams, when it was sunny and warm and he wasn’t _lost in the woods!_ And he didn’t like it all over him, because it was starting to _hurt_ and feel slimy and awful and this whole day had just gone _terribly._

The blanket was soaked through now, and the rain was still falling and it wouldn’t _stop—_ and, Ed realized with a sudden terror, the forest was a _lot_ creepier than it looked as a little green smudge from far, far away. The birch trees looked like—like _bones,_ and the rowan ones had big scraggly branches like claws, and there were thorny vines everywhere. He couldn’t hear Terrors whistling and squawking, or birds chirping or the burrowing of squirrels. It was all silent and cold and _scary,_ like some sort of—of _tree graveyard._

 _Graveyards—death—bones and claws and ghosts._ Ed shivered (the blanket wasn’t helping ward off the cold and it was just as muddy as he was) and cried quietly, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. _It’s a ghost—a ghost forest—I want my mama I want her please I’m sorry I’m sorry—I don’t wanna explore I don’t wanna have adventures anymore I’m so hungry I—_

Sandwiches. He’d brought _three sandwiches,_ right? And a cookie! He could—he could—

…Just eat sandwiches. That wouldn’t fix anything but his stomach, but it was—it was better than nothing, right?

Fingers trembling, shoulders shaking, Ed slung off the small backpack he’d stuffed the blanket into and rummaged through it for a second, sobbing with relief when he managed to tug a sandwich out of it—

Squished and muddied beyond recognition.

Ed stared at it in horror, the misshapen lump of bread and cheese in his hands smudged with dirt. Was it—had it happened when he tripped? Had he taken them out before or something? Why couldn’t he _remember?_ And why had he been so _stupid,_ going out here alone, now he was gonna have to live in the woods forever and eat mice—except there weren’t even any mice _to eat,_ there was nothing but ruined sandwiches, and any monsters who came along now would eat him and Al would forget all about him and Mama would be super mad and Winry would laugh and say “I told you so” from wherever he went when he died.

The cookie, he thought hysterically, was probably crushed to nothing but crumbs as well.

 For some reason, _that_ was what made him _really_ start crying, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them, no longer caring about the dirt and mud covering him. _I’m so stupid I wanna go home and go to bed and—_ Thunder boomed and he sobbed, heart pounding in his chest. _I want my mama I want my mama I want my mama I want—_

A rustle made him freeze, eyes peeking up from over the top of his knees as something—a twig? Maybe a root? _Bones?_ —snapped. A whimper escaped, his thumb sliding into his mouth (it was a babyish habit, he knew, and he _wasn’t_ a baby, but it was—things were really, really scary right now and it was cold and it _helped)_ as he peered anxiously out into the undergrowth; he couldn’t see anything properly through the downpour anyway, but maybe if he could make out a shape, he could at least tell if it looked scary or not. “W-who,” he managed to warble around his fingers, voice tiny and trembling, “w-who’s there?”

 _Don’t hurt me,_ he begged the whatever-it-was, ghost or monster or person or something else entirely. _Please don’t hurt me._

There was nothing for a moment, and he wondered if he’d imagined it, if maybe it was just a squirrel or a rat and he was wrong and there _were_ birds and woodland creatures here and it wasn’t as scary as he’d thought before (though still really, _really_ frightening and _not home)._ If at least half of why it was so terrifying was just the unfamiliar place and the cold and the silence and terrible, horrible, no-good very-bad day he was having. If it was all in his head.

Then he saw the eyes peering out at him from the darkness, and his terror spiked tenfold.

Terror—and a tiny, distracting bit of _awe._

For the eyes staring at him were the farthest thing from human he’d ever seen in his (very short) life, and by far the most beautiful; they were a strange, unearthly poison-green, glowing bright through the shadows of the forest, unblurring even in the rain. Ed could only stare as an otherworldly blue glow flared to life between those eyes, illuminating small, triangular spines and twin slits in a…a _face_.

 _No,_ he realized as the _thing_ moved forward, green eyes glowing like willow-the-wisps in the darkness of the storm, _a…a_ muzzle.

Because the _thing…_ the thing was a _dragon._

Curiosity swallowed his fear for a heartbeat, and he peered out from beneath the blanket as it prowled closer, moving with a grace that was anything but human. It wasn’t like any dragon he’d ever seen or read about, all night-black scales and glowing blue spines and eyes as green what he imagined the sea to look like. It was…it wasn’t _small,_ that was for sure, but it wasn’t as big as a Nightmare or as tall as a Nadder. It wasn’t as _spiky_ , either; there were no horns or talons bigger than his entire body, just a strange-looking set of flaps on top of its smooth, sleek head that looked almost like _ears_.

It was strange, and it _oozed_ power, and it was… _beautiful_. The fear, the worry, the cold and loneliness and hurt dwindled more and more the longer he looked at it. He knew he _should_ have been afraid, because this wasn’t a friendly Terrible Terror or an almost-tame Nadder, this was a _wild dragon_ that could eat him or burn him or blast him to oblivion in a second, but there was something… _familiar_ about it. Something about it that felt like _home_.

He watched, mesmerized as the blue glow faded, leaving only an eerily lovely, pantherlike beast peering down at him. The dragon peered down at him for a moment, the slits of its dark pupils rounding as it purred softly, looking… _happy._ Happy and sort-of fond and vaguely sympathetic, a warbling croon rolling smoothly from its throat as it padded to his side. Ed squeaked as a tail swept around him, the dragon settling on its stomach as he was pulled to its side.

He should have been scared. He should have been screaming, running, _begging_ for it not to eat him, claw him, kill him. He should have been crying and wailing and _terrified._ Any sensible child would.

Ed, however was starting to care less and less for “sensible” with every passing moment.

He gasped as a dark wing, deep and black as night and wide as the sky itself, swept overhead, blocking out the rain. Green eyes twinkled merrily at him as the dragon crooned again, and Ed _felt_ it through where his side was pressed up against warm, dry scales, a tremor running through its body. Gaping, he stared at it—and yelped as a broad, pink tongue swept across the scratches on his knees and arms, seemingly uncaring of the mud coating his body…or _washing_ him, like how cats washed their kittens.

Weird. _So_ weird. But his body didn’t hurt as much and the heat the dragon radiated was making him shiver less and less, and he felt somehow _safe_ beneath the dragon’s wing, close enough to hear its steady, comforting heartbeat, loud enough to block out the thunder roaring overhead.

 “What—what _are_ you?” he managed to croak finally, fingers hesitantly brushing along the dark scales along its side. “I’ve…” _I’ve never seen anything like you—a dragon who looks like you_ or _acts like you._

The dragon crooned again, low and strangely _loving,_ like Mama’s voice when she was singing Al a lullaby. Its tail, narrow and strong and covered in those round, flat black scales, thumped against the ground, and Ed’s eyes widened at the sight of it: there was a fin-like thing on one side of it, and on the other…on the other there was a thin, slightly torn-up edge of flesh, and then nothing. As though there was _supposed_ to be something there, but it had been lost. Or… _taken_.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked, his voice small.

Something deep and sharp and _sad_ flashed through the dragon’s eyes, and then—the dragon shook its head, a _human_ gesture, and licked his forehead. Ed shivered at the contact, and the dragon warbled in what sounded like _amusement,_ mouth twitching into a strange, gummy smile.

Exhaustion had already been weighing heavily on Ed’s shoulders, but now, warm and strangely safe beneath the dragon’s wing, it swallowed him whole. He yawned, leaning against the dragon’s side and curling up as that heartbeat continued to echo in his ears. “Toothless,” he mumbled, eyes drifting closed as that heavy wave of drowsiness swept over and drowned him. “Coulda sworn…you had…teeth…”

That sharp, sad _something_ seemed to flash through green eyes again, but he let sleep whisk him away and thought on it no more. 

* * *

 

When he woke up, he was back in his house, curled up in his bed as the sun streamed through the window, scratches on his arms and knees and a mud-splattered shirt the only signs that it hadn’t all been a dream. Mama scolded him for running off as soon as he woke up, saying she’d been worried sick, Al refused to let go of his hand for hours and hours and clung stubbornly to his shirt whenever Ed tried to detangle him.

When he asked about the dragon, Mama looked worried and said she hadn’t seen one that looked _like that_ or heard of one either, was he sure he’d seen it, was he okay? Al listened raptly when he told him about it, and said the dragon sounded _oh-so cool_ but that made it sound like he’d never seen it before, which…he hadn’t. Neither Al nor Mama saw the dragon.

The running, the cold, the rain and the smushed sandwiches and the ruined blanket, those were all real, but… _did I just imagine it?_

Mama had given him a big, warm hug before he’d went to bed and firmly told him never to run off alone like that again, _especially_ not if no one knew where he was going beforehand. He’d gotten a kiss on the forehead before being told that he was Officially Grounded for _three whole days,_ and he resigned himself to sulking in his room and trying to find pictures or news of dragons that looked like the dark one from the woods. He spread all the ones he’d collected over his bed, Nightmares and Terrors and Gronckles and Nadders and other, stranger ones, and—

And then there was a _thump_ on the roof.

Ed froze, eyes widening as a strange hope he couldn’t quite place bloomed in his chest, hopping off his bed and tiptoeing over to the window. He had to climb up on the windowsill to reach the latch, but he managed it, excitement starting to bubble up within him as the sound of claws clacked across the roof. Cautiously, he pushed it open, peering out into the night. _Please be there, please be there…_

He yelped as a (bizarrely, as if he’d seen him a thousand times before, as if he _knew_ this dragon) familiar dark head swung down, green eyes wide and bright with mischief as a pink tongue lolled from a toothless mouth. Blue flickered along sleek black scales as the dragon blinked at him upside-down before grinning that gummy smile and swiping that broad tongue across his forehead.

Excitement and hope turned to a wild, all-encompassing _euphoria_ , a rush of joy through his entire body, and Ed laughed, standing on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around the dragon’s neck. “You’re _real!”_ he whispered delightedly, feeling a purr run through the dragon’s body as it licked at his face over and over. “I knew it, I _knew_ it!”

Being Officially Grounded, he decided, wasn’t so bad. Not with a secret dragon here to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! The next chapter should be posted soon. Please leave a comment and a kudos if you did enjoy it, and ask me any questions you might have! Mwah~


	2. See You Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after meeting his best friend in the woods, eight-year-old Edward Elric tries to figure out just who, exactly, his dragon friend is. The dragon doesn't seem all that eager to tell him his secrets, unfortunately, but that's all right. Name or no name, Ed knows he'll always love the dragon, and that the dragon loves him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter titles come from the original How To Train Your Dragon soundtrack. I couldn't resist! Plus, soulbond explanation this chapter--that's why the platonic soulmates tag is a thing. Speaking of which: all these "I love you's" are platonic. I know (I goddamn would hope) that no one's reading anything ultra-gross into this, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The dragon only ever showed itself to Ed and Ed alone, and he found that he was perfectly fine with that. He shared so much with his little brother—his toys, his mom’s love (before the sickness, before she…well, _passed)_ , his friendship with Winry, even his talent with alchemy—that having something to himself was…well, kinda nice. Plus, when that _something_ was a super powerful, super _cool_ one-of-a-kind (at least, he assumed he was the only one of his kind, since he hadn’t seen a single dragon who looked anything like his friend in the four years since he’d met him in the forest) dragon…

He loved Al, he really did, but the dragon was _his_ and his alone, and he kind of wanted to keep it that way. At least for now. Even if hiding him from his family could be kind of _hectic_ at times—he’d had to shove the dragon into the closet several times, and once he had scrambled under Ed’s bed just before his mom came in (he was pretty sure Mom had known, at least on some level, but his dragon showed no interest in revealing himself and Ed didn’t want to risk hurting him or breaking the bond they’d built over these four years), which made for a _very_ awkward good-night.

He wished now that he’d told her, though. That Trisha Elric could’ve met the other most important grown-up in his life before…

_Before…_

He swallowed thickly and shook his head, pasting on a smile and raising a hand in greeting as he neared the top of the hill, the dragon sunning himself atop it raising his head and crooning fondly. He couldn’t help the relief sweeping through his chest; the dragon, nameless or not, was probably the only reason he hadn’t gone crazy after Mom died, the only reason he’d been able to focus enough to start learning about human transmutation. The dragon didn’t seem to trust the idea of it, giving him a sharp, warning look whenever he talked about it, but Ed always dismissed it, kept working on the formula. It was only taboo, he reminded himself, because everyone had gotten it _wrong._ He was going to get it _right,_ and then he’d introduce the dragon to Mom and they and he and Al would all live together as a family again. Happily-ever-after, the end.

Ed still didn’t really know what the dragon _was,_ though, which could be…frustrating. He didn’t seem inclined to share any information on himself, whether it was a species name or a name of his own. All Ed really knew about him was that he was friendly and protective and loved chin scratches (and licking Ed’s face, he hadn’t stopped doing that in _four years;_ did _anyone_ know how hard it was to wash dragon-slobber out of clothes? _Really freaking hard)_ , and that he couldn’t fly because of the missing fin.

Which wasn’t a lot—wasn’t _anything,_ really, not in the grand scheme of things at all. And yet the dragon was still his best friend in the whole world, his secret and his protector. Even if he _did_ fuss over him _constantly._ Was it weird, he wondered, clutching a collection of newspaper articles and settling under the dragon’s broad wing, that he didn’t even have a _name_ for his best friend? He’d been _The Dragon_ for four years now, had only looked at Ed strangely, _sadly_ (like he was _mourning_ something) whenever he’d tried to call him something else.

Maybe he already had a name. Ed couldn’t be sure, but he still wanted to _know._ There was something about the dragon that was _different,_ just as wild as all the others he’d met and yet more _human_ , somehow. He _looked_ at him, too, when he thought Ed wasn’t looking, with pure, frightening, unconditional love and a grief as ancient as the sky.

There was a history to the dragon. To _his_ dragon. And maybe he wasn’t ready to share it yet, but Ed would be ready and waiting to listen whenever it was.

A species name, though, would probably make things a lot easier—and since his dragon seemed to be one of a kind, Ed decided _he’d_ be the one to name them.

He spread the articles he’d gathered on the grass, kneeling beneath the dragon’s wing as he snuffled curiously at them. “Hey, careful with those—they’re all out of print now, ‘cept this one—” he tapped the one on the top, the glossy image of the new dragon and its human partner (that was a thing now, too—in the eight years since dragons had appeared, people had started forming _bonds_ with them, taming them, riding on their backs; there was even talk of an aerial corps forming in the military, not that Ed cared much for _that)_ bright and in _color_ on the smooth page “—and I used all my allowance from Granny for it, so I can’t get another one.”

The dragon harrumphed softly and rested his head on his paws, one eye fixed on the top article. Ed beamed at the sight of it, hands smoothing over the page again. The headline was in bold black type, stark against the smooth paper: _New Species Discovered in Central City—Rider-Dubbed “Light Fury” Finally Lands for Her Close-Up!_ “She kinda looks like you, doesn’t she, bud?”

He glanced at the dragon for confirmation, who blinked thoughtfully at the picture, a brief flash of that strange, sad _something_ flickering in his gaze before he crooned and wrapped his tail around Ed. He yelped as the powerful tail sent him sprawling over his front paws, the dragon _thwumping_ on top of him with a _roawrk-roawrk-roawrk_ noise Ed had come to identify as a _laugh._ “I can’t _breeeeeathe!”_ he whined, scrabbling at the grass until the dragon lifted his head enough for Ed to curl up between his paws and glare up at him. “You’re a _terrible_ friend,” he said pointedly.

The dragon just made that familiar, warm laughter-sound again, and a reluctant grin pulled at his lips. “Alright, _fine,_ here’s the next one. See?” He pulled another newspaper toward him, spreading the relevant pages in front of powerful black claws—ones that Ed had seen rip right through trees and gouge through the earth, but had _never_ hurt him—so that the dragon could see them better. “They found ones that look like a mix of that—that Light Fury dragon and a dragon like _you.”_ Absently, he reached up to scratch beneath the little nubs along the dragon’s jaw, feeling a purr rumble through his chest as Ed gazed at the picture.

 _Disappearing Dragons Found Roosting in South City,_ the title read. Ed had thought it was the acid-spitting species people had come to call _Changewings_ at first, but the article and image attached soon proved him wrong. They didn’t shoot acid—no, they were equipped with a weapon far more dangerous: _plasma._ At least, Ed _assumed_ it was plasma.

Plasma itself would have been dangerous enough, of course, but these dragons were also (apparently, given the evidence the article provided) extremely aerodynamic, with streamlined bodies built for speed and scales in patterns of black and white not unlike a cat’s, built for blending into the sky. Add that to the fact that firing a blast and flying through it could turn these dragons invisible, and well…it was sort of terrifying, but _really_ cool.

Ed had never seen the dragon turn invisible, but he _did_ fire those plasma-burst things, and had the same ear-like nubs on his head (though they were a lot longer than the Light Fury’s). And they looked similar enough to be from the same _family,_ if not precisely the same _species…_

“So I guess you’re a Fury of some kind, right?” His dragon warbled above him, a low, sweet crooning noise that Ed felt rumble through its chest. “I mean, you have the plasma, the fins, the same _body shape…”_ He glanced at the pictures again, the narrow bodies and wide, powerful wings and brilliant, almost-glowing eyes, before looking up at his dragon again with a frown. _He’s the only one who does that blue glow-y thing, though…at least, I haven’t heard of any other dragon doing that. Maybe they can, and just…don’t._

He had a hunch, though, that it was something only _his_ dragon could do. Something that set him apart, made him…different. Made him _stronger._

“Fury,” he repeated, drawing the first article into his lap and running his fingers over it thoughtfully. The woman standing beside the “Light Fury” was beaming as she knelt beside the beautiful creature, arms wrapped around its neck as it nuzzled her affectionately. Though the image was a little grainy, it had managed to capture the unmistakable, unearthly glow in both their eyes: the mark of a soulbond.

Soulbonds were…strange, and, as Ed had learned, controversial in the growing “dragonology” community. A lot of people scoffed at the idea of them—yes, you could befriend a dragon, yes, you could earn their respect and their aid, yes, you could even make pets out of the friendlier species, but twining your _souls_ together? Giving each other strength, sharing abilities and habits of each other’s species, being completely equal partners in a relationship with an _animal?_ That sounded like _magic,_ and yes, dragons were mythological beasts suddenly made flesh, but soulbonds with them were pushing it _too far._

Ed could understand where they were coming from. He was an alchemist. He believed in _fact._ In solid laws, give and take, truths of the universe that could never be undone. Even if he had to challenge those truths, those laws, they still _existed._  

It just so happened that he thought soulbonds _were_ one of those truths of the universe. Real and factual and never to be undone.

Sure, there wasn’t a lot of proof of it, and sure, Ed didn’t have one with the dragon _himself_ (he wanted to, he _so badly_ wanted to, but it had to be an equal decision for an equal partnership and he didn’t want to be anything less than the best person he ever could for his dragon friend), but there was enough evidence that the theory checked out. People treating dragons as though they were people, as though they were _marvels_ (which, really, they were), a human’s pupils turning to slits and dilating according to their emotions, humans who were never seen without a dragon by their side…the list went on. And sure, plenty of it could be circumstantial, but there were interviews, studies on soulbound pairs—too many accounts to all have been falsified.

The interviews were his favorite to read and listen to; Winry had taken to marking down any upcoming radio interviews with soulbound partners on the calendar so Ed could keep track, and he kept newspaper clippings of any ones he came across on the cork board in his room. Some came from military officials, especially following an interesting period when Amestris had been trying to make itself more dragon-friendly (and sure, some places still got raided and dragons were still wild, but there were fewer dangerous misunderstandings now), and others who were just ordinary everyday people who’d found a dragon who chose them as family and vice versa.

 His absolute favorite was from a man in a lakeside town who’d befriended a Scauldron when it got tangled up in a fishing net and nursed it back to health. “Scully”, he’d called the sea-dragon, and Ed had wanted to listen over and over as they bantered with each other, the dragon clicking and warbling and the man responding as if it were human words it was speaking. That kind of easy, confident friendship, coupled with a bond that went soul-deep…he was _jealous._ Because of the bond—and because they got to _fly._

Riding on his dragon’s back while he ran across the meadows was the closest he’d ever gotten; he knew he couldn’t fly without the missing fin, but he was _fast,_ and Ed felt like he could ride forever, arms stretched wide as the wind rushed past around them, moving instinctively with fire and fury made flesh, fingers skimming the blades of grass as they ran as far as they could, as fast as they could, and back again. It _felt_ like flying—but it wasn’t.

Maybe Ed would never know what it was like; after all, a soulbond didn’t magically heal all wounds between the dragon and human. It gave strength, provided an eternal source of unconditional love, changed both physically and mentally, but physical _wounds_ like that were permanent. Without a fin, his dragon would never fly again.

Ed loved him fiercely, completely, anyways.

“A Light Fury,” he murmured, drumming his fingers against the picture of the glimmering white dragon and the woman it was soulbound to. “A Light Fury, and dragons that _look_ like Light Furies, but with ears like yours and patches of black _and_ white. Like…night and day.” His eyes widened, a grin crossing his face as the perfect name hit him. “Night-Lights! The ones that look like you and a Light Fury combined, they’re _Night-Lights!”_

There was a low chortling noise, and Ed looked up as his dragon rumbled out a laugh. “What? Oh, come on,” he grumbled as the dragon nudged his head, still chuckling. “It’s a good name! Light and dark, night and day, you know— _Night-Lights!_ It totally works!” They even _looked_ similar enough. Maybe he should try drawing them or something later—the Light Fury, the Night-Lights (which was totally their name now; he was gonna call them that for-freaking-ever), and his dragon, and compare them.

Night and Light. _Night-Lights,_ a combination of the Light Fury dragon and its invisibility powers, and…and _his_ dragon with his plasma blasts and finned tail. “Light Fury,” he muttered again, brow furrowing as he leaned against his dragon’s chest. “If _that’s_ a Light Fury, then you…”

_A high-pitched whistling noise—a shadow blocking out the stars—a creature born of moonless nights, the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself—_

“You’re a _Night Fury.”_

His dragon went still at that. Perfectly still, _predatorily_ still, like he was about to rise and pounce or bite Ed’s head off or something. Still with shock, maybe, or still with _rage,_ he didn’t know, but worry quickly swallowed his excitement at the name and he twisted around to look the dragon in the eye, swallowing thickly. “I can think of something different, if you want, it doesn’t _have_ to be Night Fury—besides, I’m pretty sure there’s only one of you, so whatever works for you works for me, you know?”

His dragon didn’t respond for a moment, and Ed’s brow furrowed at how faraway and _melancholy_ his gaze looked, eyes as green as fire bright and aching with some sort of ancient, heartbreaking grief that made him want to wrap his arms around the dragon’s neck and hold him until it hurt a little less. “Bud…?”

Then the dragon shook himself abruptly, as if coming out of a daze, and Ed yelped and squawked as his tongue rasped over his cheek again, dragon drool dripping onto his favorite shirt. “Ugh, you _know_ that doesn’t wash out!” He shoved playfully at him, before sobering as the dragon drew away, rising to his feet and spreading his black wings wide.

“Do you…” He hesitated, before asking again, his voice small: “Is that what you are? Are you—are you a Night Fury?”

_It’s your choice. Just like it’s your choice to choose me, to be my friend, to trust me._

_But I’m always gonna choose to stand by you, no matter what._

Green eyes blinked at him, before a lipless mouth pulled into a wide, toothless grin. Relief swept through Ed as the Night Fury bounded around him, warbling impatiently, and he laughed, gathering up the scraps of articles and stuffing them into his pockets. He held still just long enough for Ed to clamber on and crouch over his back—

Then they were off, boy and dragon charging across a sea of grass, the sky wide and open and blue above them.

And if Ed closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were _flying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Ed unknowingly echoes the words of his predecessors, particularly Toothless's last rider. If you're wondering why Toothless won't tell Ed his name or at least indicate it, the last chapter will clear that up :D 
> 
> Leave a comment and a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next chapter!


	3. Ready The Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything finally seems to be falling into place. Ed and Al have discovered the possibility of human transmutation, found a potential tutor in Dublith, and are at last packed and ready to head out. He's so close to succeeding--to seeing his mom again. To being _whole _.__
> 
> __But it means leaving his best friend behind._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST!!!! I come bearing angst amidst the fluff, some introspection, and heartfelt farewells--for now, but not forever! Though their reunion will be...eh, you'll see next chapter ;)

They were going to bring Mom back.

Ed stared at the suitcase full of all his worldly possessions, save only the corkboard he was leaving behind with its pictures of dragons and dozens of articles and spare scales, the train ticket in his hands, and tried to believe it. To believe that their ultimate goal was finally in reach, that when they came home, he would be an _alchemist._ That he would see his mother’s smile again. That everything was going to be okay again.

_We’re finally going to bring our mom back._

It didn’t feel _real,_ that after so long spent trying to learn from notes and books and old research, they would finally learn the necessary alchemy from _real people._ Finally, they’d made some progress. Finally, they were taking one of the most important steps to becoming proper alchemists and, you know, _bringing their mother back from the dead after six years._

Even after finding a _solution_ (as though death was just an equation they didn’t know the answer to—but in the end, wasn’t it? Weren’t all unknowns?) _,_ finding the formula, the theory, the path to the knowledge that could _bring back the dead,_ the reminder that they had to bring her back at all still hurt. So did the realizations, though he was steadily growing used to those now that years had gone by—glancing over his shoulder to see her proud smile and finding nothing, no one standing there, waking after a nightmare with a cry and reaching for an embrace that would never come, running back inside from a day out and finding an empty house waiting for him. It wasn’t a single, massive stab wound, like he’d thought death was—it was that, and a thousand little paper cuts every single day.

Al was the only family he had left now. The only person he could trust with their _true_ reason for going to Dublith to study alchemy, because Al was the one who inspired him to _find_ that reason in the first place—because he and Al would do this _together,_ just as they always had. No more secrets. No more separations. It was the two of them against the world, now and forever.

Except…

Except for _one_ secret. One person who was family and friend and practically _everything_ to him. One person who he’d told their true motive to. One person who crept through the window and held him when he cried, when he couldn’t risk Al seeing his big brother so weak. One person who let him scream at the sky for the sheer unfairness of it all before sweeping him into his wings and letting him sob himself to sleep. One person who carried him to the graveyard in the black of night to lay fresh flowers on Trisha Elric’s grave.

One person who couldn’t come to Dublith with him. Who he’d be separated from for as long as their apprenticeship lasted.

They were leaving in the morning. They’d say farewell to Winry and Granny Pinako, who had said in no uncertain terms that they were coming to the train station to see them off. And then…and then Ed would leave behind the dragon that had cared for him, protected him, been friend and brother and often _father_ to him (moreso than that bastard _Hohenheim_ had ever been, anyways), who had been with him for _six years._

Ed stared down at the round, black scale clutched in his hand, so different from the scales of other dragons he’d seen, like night made flesh rather than the glitter of gemstones. Al would ask questions, but this…he had to bring _something,_ at least, to remind him who was waiting for him. He could call Winry if—when—he missed her, but the Night Fury…he couldn’t exactly find and pick up a phone, and Dublith was too far for even a Night Fury to run. This would be all he had to remember him by for months, maybe _years._

They hadn’t been apart since the dragon had found him in the woods at four, and now…

_Now I’m leaving him behind._

Ed didn’t bother trying to be quiet as he opened the window, climbing onto the sill with far more grace than he had at four, investigating a thump on the roof and finding something else entirely there instead. With a practiced ease, he leaned himself out of the window, twisting to grab onto the edge of the roof, and braced his feet against the shutters. He scrambled up quickly, hauling himself to the top and leaning into the slant of it as a dark shape raised its head, mournful green eyes shining in the lonely midnight.  

Despite everything, a small smile tugged at his lips. “Hey, bud,” he croaked, reaching the top and sitting down beside him. “How’d you get up here without Al seeing you, huh?” Absently, he slid his hand over his Night Fury’s muzzle, some of the anxiety bubbling in his gut quieting as he crooned softly. “Six years and I’ve never figured out how you climb up here.”

The Night Fury warbled softly, fondly, curling his tail around Ed, who scooted up against his side obligingly. Flickers of blue chased up and down black scales, casting an eerie glow across the night, mesmerizing and yet comforting. He pressed himself against the dragon’s side, tucking himself beneath the welcoming dark wing and listening to that thundering heartbeat pound, ancient and beautiful and strong.

For a moment, he could pretend he was four again, lost and hiding from a thunderstorm beneath the broad wing of a mysterious dragon, believing his father still gave a shit about him and that his mother would live forever and nothing could hurt him or his brother. He closed his eyes, leaning against his dragon’s side as luminous green eyes fixed on the stars.

He had to leave—for Mom, for Al, even for Winry and Granny. It was the only way to heal that hole inside them, to become better than he was. There was no other option.

But sitting here, beside the best friend he’d ever had, beside one of the few people who’d _never_ hurt him, beside someone who’d taught him what it felt like to really be _free—_ what it was like to _fly,_ even if neither of them could touch the clouds yet…

_I don’t want to leave._ Ed buried his face in his knees, resting one hand against the Night Fury’s side as though he could memorize the feeling of those scales beneath his fingertips, the sound of that heartbeat and the heat he radiated in warm, comforting waves. _I don’t want to leave you, bud._

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment, scrubbing in frustration at the tears burning at the backs of his eyes. “I—you’re gonna be okay though, right? You can—can find fish on your own, and…” He choked on a laugh. _He’s a dragon, you idiot, of course he can._ “You’re gonna be okay,” he repeated, more to himself than to the dragon. “We’re _both_ gonna be okay, just—separately.”

_Separately._ The word felt like a curse, settling over them with a terrible finality. The Night Fury warbled mournfully, swinging his dark head around meet his eyes, and Ed tried and failed to smile again, vision blurring. “It’s okay—it’s not forever, right?” _Don’t let it be forever, please don’t let it be forever, don’t leave me—I know I’m leaving you first but please, please, don’t vanish forever._ He swallowed thickly, burying his head against the side of the dragon. _I can’t lose you, too._

Images flickered in his mind, shrouded in mist—as though they weren’t quite his, as though the skies of fire and ocean glowing behind his closed eyelids belonged to another person entirely. Dark scales, claws wrapped around a small body ( _nothisnothis but…part of him, all the same)_ , tears sliding down his face as wings of night spread wide and vanished, taking a piece of his heart, his _soul_ with him. The edge of a cliff, and the knowledge that he was empty, was no longer whole, and never would be again—

_Someone lost you before,_ he realized, shifting just enough to see his dragon’s gaze fix upon the stars again, that strange, grief-stricken _something_ flickering through his eyes again. _Or…you lost them. Or you gave each other up, and_ then _you lost them, and you—you don’t want to lose anyone else either. Not again._

“I’m gonna come back,” he whispered against the dragon’s scales, meeting those brilliant, shining green eyes as the Night Fury met his eyes. “I promise you, bud—I _am_ gonna come back. This isn’t forever. You and me— _that’s_ forever.”

_Even without a soulbond._ He pushed the traitorous thought away, scooting out from under his wing and leaning against the dragon’s powerful foreleg. Soulbonds were important, but what they had, the bond between them…it went deeper than that. Even without a bond that allowed them to hear each other’s thoughts, the dragon had stayed beside him, chosen him over and over and over, and Ed had chosen him just as many times.

It might have been him and Al against the world since Mom died, but it had been him and the dragon against the world for even longer, and he _would not give him up._ Not now, not ever.

This was goodbye, yes, but it wasn’t goodbye forever, and it wasn’t him leaving the Night Fury behind. It was…it was a see-you-tomorrow. “We’re forever,” he repeated, rested his head against the dragon’s shoulder and shifting his gaze up to the stars. Gently, he guided his fingers over the scar on his dragon’s tail, the tiny scrap of flesh left behind from the missing fin. _And I’ll fix this too._

_You don’t have to tell me anything, about what you lost,_ who _you lost, who and what you were before you found me._ He glanced at the dragon, found luminous green eyes glowing down at him, bright and beautiful and full of that strange, melancholy _love. I trust you, and I love you, and it’s you and me forever and ever and ever._

The flashes in his mind had spoken to him for years, sung him stories of the wind beneath the wings that spread wide now, of racing storms and daring the lightning to catch them, of challenging wild and raging seas and _winning_. Of triumph and adrenaline and _freedom._

He didn’t know whether the images—the memories? –came from his Night Fury or from somewhere else entirely, but that _feeling,_ that wildfire recklessness and the lightning-sharp exhilaration…he wanted so badly to taste it for _real._ To fly with his own dragon the same way they’d charged across the meadows on nights like these, when the stars seemed to sing to them and the wind called them out to play and neither of them could sit still, when they’d run so fast and so far that Ed could imagine their feet leaving the ground and the clouds high above being close enough to touch. To feel the sun beating down on his face as they pierced the cloud layer and soared into the upper air, to throw his hands out and laugh as the wind rushed around them. _To go where no one goes,_ he thought, _and see what no one has ever seen._

He wanted to give that back to his dragon. Even if he never formed the bond with Ed, never let him fly with him, he wanted the Night Fury to feel the wind beneath his wings and taste the sky and dance among the starlight and _wow,_ being sentimental had made him weirdly poetic. Was it the moonlight? Maybe it was the moonlight—and the knowledge he was leaving his best friend behind.

_For now, but not forever._ “I’m going to find a way to help you fly again,” he said determinedly, gaze fixed on the sky as his dragon jolted, dark head swinging toward him. “I—I don’t know how you lost it, or if you ever want to tell me, but I know you miss the sky.” He met those bright green eyes, absently scratching the underside of his chin. “I promise, bud—you’re gonna fly again.”

The dragon blinked at him, eyes shining with something brighter than that strange grief, than that deep love—shining bright with _hope,_ Ed realized. He offered his best friend a smile—and gasped as the dragon’s forelegs looped around him, crushing him to the dragon’s chest in an almost-human hug, squeezing him tight and warm against glimmering black scales.

Something burned at his eyes— _tears,_ oh, goddamnit, he really didn’t want to cry tonight, he didn’t want his dragon to see him crying before leaving him for months on end—and he looped his arms around the Night Fury’s neck in return, burying his face in his shoulder. “I’m really gonna miss you,” he whispered, memorizing the thrum of that heartbeat. “I—I love you, bud. So much.”

And when his dragon purred in response, he really did cry, because the Night Fury’s answering rumble sounded a lot like _I love you too._

* * *

 

The train arrived, and Ed found it harder and harder to mimic Al’s excited grin as he waved out the window to Winry and Granny, pretending that there was a massive dark shape bounding through the near-empty station, tongue lolling and green eyes glowing as he pressed his nose to the window to try and lick his face. It didn’t happen—and he was _glad_ it didn’t, because then everyone would know about the Night Fury, and maybe it made him selfish but he still wanted the dragon all to himself for a while—and he swallowed back the faintest flicker of disappointment.

_It’s safer,_ he chastised himself as the train started moving, still waving furiously to Winry and Granny until they were out of sight. _It’s safer for both of us and you don’t need to worry about him because he’s_ fine, _you idiot._ He brushed his fingers over the scale would on a scrap of twine around his neck, the hole in it pierced by dragon claws as dawn rose over the rooftops. _Besides, you’ve got a piece of him with you now._

Al flopped back against the bench, bouncing in place excitedly and babbling about the letters he was going to send back, about postcards and lessons and principles of alchemy. Ed, for a moment, wished that he could feel nothing but excitement, but ambition, that drive to finally accomplish their goal and see their mother’s smile again—that he _wasn’t_ missing the dragon that was as good as half his soul, bond or no bond. For a second, he wondered what his life would be like if dragons _didn’t_ exist and his friend hadn’t found him in the woods that day. Would he be talking with Al right now instead of staring out the window? Would he have anything he really loved to do besides alchemy? Would he still be making this journey?

A world like that, the kind of world his parents had grown up in…he didn’t want to think about it, he realized. He didn’t _want_ to imagine a world where dragons didn’t fly through the skies and roam the land and even the faraway oceans. He didn’t want a world without his dragon, without his best friend scrambling up onto the roof and bouncing on it to wake him up, without riding off on dragonback to pretend they were flying off to the very edge of the world, without falling asleep to the sound of a heartbeat as bright and warm as a star and waking to green eyes and a gummy smile.

That kind of world…maybe it would be more peaceful, less fraught with fire and pain and danger, but that world sounded like _hell._ Ed hadn’t even flown yet, and yet being stuck on the ground felt like chains were wrapped around his feet and iron weights sunk into his blood. He didn’t even have a soulbond, and yet being away from the dragon that was the better half of himself made him feel twitchy and hollow and _wrong._ A world without dragons, now that Ed knew about them, _loved_ them, wasn’t worth living in at all.

“ _Whoa—_ Brother, what’s that?”

Ed blinked, jerked out of his reverie by Al’s awed voice. His fingers pressed against the scale around his neck again as he furrowed his brow at his little brother, pressed up against the window again. Al’s hazel-gold eyes widened, and Ed yelped as a hand seized his sleeve, dragging him up to the window beside him. “Ed, I think it’s a _dragon!”_

_What?_

He gazed out the window at the meadows rolling by, jaw dropping as a sleek form like midnight made flesh reared onto its hind legs amidst all the green, black wings spreading wide as blue flickered up and down its powerful body. Green eyes flashed with love he could feel even across the distance between them, and the Night Fury threw his head back and roared, a cry that echoed even over the clatter and shriek of the train.

A promise—to find him. To come back. To never be parted.

Ed felt a smile threaten to overtake his face and _let it,_ waving furiously at his dragon as the train pulled them away from each other once again. Only when he was out of sight did he sink back against the seat, his hands pressed over the scale that still pulsed with that brilliant warmth, chatting once more with his _little_ brother. Pressed them over that hole in his heart, the pain in his chest steadily subsiding—not gone, still _there,_ but easing with every passing moment, and smiled. _It’s not a goodbye. It’s see-you-tomorrow._

 He knew—as surely as he knew his brother’s voice, his mother’s smile, his Night Fury’s heartbeat—that they’d find each other again.

Ed closed his eyes and whispered his promise to himself, the vow that ran deeper than flight, than blood, to the brother of his soul: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be the last one for this story; the next one in the series should be out pretty soon. Please leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next chap!


	4. This Time For Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toothless gets home from his own journey the night the Elrics commit the ultimate taboo, bursts into their house just in time to see his Little-One bleeding out as his brother holds him in shock. Somewhere deep within his soul, where he is still fifteen winters young and hollow without his human beside him, surrounded by the stench of blood and ozone, he looks upon the fragile body of this human he loves and vows: _never again. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four thousand words of toothless pov four thousand words of toothless pov fOUR THOUSAND WORDS OF TOOTHLESS POV FOUR THOUSAND WORDS O
> 
> yes im publishing the last chapter within a day of the third. and what about it.
> 
> Little-One: Toothless's name for Ed  
> Half-of-Me: Toothless's name for Hiccup  
> Littermate: Toothless's name for Al  
> Storm-Queen: Toothless's name for Astrid  
> The-World-Beneath-The-Water: the dragon name for the Hidden World

Toothless knew something was wrong the second he arrived at Little-One’s den.

It took a lot to tire a Night Fury, especially one as ancient and strong as Toothless was (he would readily admit that his unusual stamina was likely the result of Half-of-Me’s ceaseless explorations, his soul-brother’s constant desire to push the boundaries of what their people knew resulting in flying higher, further, faster than any Night Fury before him), but even his paws were beginning to ache by the time he returned to the den-house Little-One and Littermate (who Toothless had never properly met but knew was his Little-One’s dearest treasure in all the world).

His heart had ached when he’d seen Little-One board that great metal-snake-train, and for a moment he’d cursed himself for his cowardice, for not offering him that soul-deep bond he and Half-of-Me had treasured and then broken to save their peoples, for being too scared to twine his soul to another human despite loving him with all his heart…but Little-One would be fine, he’d told himself, and promised to offer the bond to him when he returned. All he needed was that last piece of Half-of-Me he’d left behind to be with his beloved mate—the one that had tied them together so irrevocably, and the one that had caused that first fracture in their bond.

The fin. His _brother’s_ fin, painted red and white, like a physical mark of the bond he'd once believed unbreakable. Half-of-Me had told him that first night after what his dragons were calling the Reawakening, nothing more than a spirit standing beside him with fond green eyes and a sad smile, looking fifteen winters again, to protect Little-One if he could. That his path would be long and hard, and he needed someone to be there—by _choice,_ as Toothless had been for him. To teach him to fly again after he fell.

Toothless had promised—for his Hiccup at first, but then his promise became one to the little human hatchling with his golden eyes and hair, his smile like sunlight and his courage like fire. The boy he’d protected because he loved Half-of-Me became the partner, the hatchling he protected because _he loved him._ And the hatchling loved him back, even when Toothless was too pathetically frightened of losing another human he loved to dare form the bond with him, to tell him the truth—that he was ancient, he was the alpha, and he had loved and lost before and that he had chosen not to fly again until he could trust himself to bear the pain.

Little-One, too, had loved and lost so much in his brief eleven winters, had built himself up a pillar beneath him that seemed so strong it was unshakable. Only Toothless knew how fragile that pillar was, how often Little-One had to choke back tears or muffle his wails into Toothless’s wings—and yet he kept moving forward, kept loving as so few did, with all and everything. It burned brighter in him than the fires of Half-of-Me’s Valhalla, burned away Toothless’s self-pity, his doubt, his fear. Five hundred winters, and humans could still surprise him, _outshine_ him.

 If Little-One could lose his sire and dame in nearly the same year and still move forward, still love him so fiercely that he vowed to help him fly again even if it meant Toothless leaving (and in that moment, he hadn’t seen Half-of-Me at all—he’d seen _Little-One,_ purely Little-One, and the thought of leaving him hurt as much as leaving Half-of-Me), how could Toothless keep justifying his cowardice? How could he deny Little-One the truth, the bond, that twining of souls? How could he take to the skies—and not bring Little-One with him?

But to _fly…_ well, no one yet had managed to match the ingenuity of Half-of-Me’s flight rig. No fin was quite so strong, so _comforting_ and yet versatile as the one of red and white and iron. Besides, he wanted Little-One to have that much of him, at least. To know the human-spirit who watched over him from the golden halls and silver skies of his afterlife, and know that they would both serve and protect him until they were nothing more than echoes on the wind.

So when Little-One had waved at him from the window of the great metal-snake, eyes bright and a smile finally crossing that sweet, gentle face, Toothless had spread his wings and roared back his promise—to fly with him, protect him, stand beside him as an equal—before setting off on a journey of his own. He’d smashed the automatic tail Half-of-Me had created when he was too lovesick to think of _consequences,_ sworn after he saw Little-One crying alone in that dark ghost-wood that he would not fly without a twin of his soul ever again. And without the automatic tail, well…he would have to find the one that his soul-brother made for him all those centuries ago.

He knew that Half-of-Me would have kept it, the same way he held close the scraps of leather and steel beneath the scale-paint on the automatic tail, the same way he’d lined the nest of his hatchlings with a fragment of Half-of-Me’s beloved map (which he hoped to find and pass on to his Little-One too, if he could; they had that same restlessness, the same wanderlust in their blood, and he knew Little-One would treasure the map—if it still existed). He knew he would have used it to teach his hatchlings, and their hatchlings, about the dragons, about his soul-brother who grieved for him beneath the sea. That the human-city called New Berk still stood, at the border between their two worlds, guarding the secret of the dragons. He had prayed, for a moment, to those human gods of their that Half-of-Me’s descendants had learned to ride and fly again, that their patience and kindness and loyalty been rewarded as they deserved—before setting off to steal from them.

But was it really stealing if you were simply stealing it _back?_

The journey had been long and particularly frustrating; reaching the sea and then traveling _over_ it was much more difficult when one couldn’t fly. He’d had years to practice swimming by now, of course, but he was no Scauldron, no Sea-Shocker, and he was far too large to sneak aboard any ship despite the general increase in things’ sizes over the past few hundred years (human technology—while destructive—was _interesting:_ wagons that didn’t need yaks or dragons to tug them along? Ships without sails? Half-of-Me would have loved it); besides, _New Berk_ was unlikely to be on any human maps besides their own.

Sea dragons, though, were generally happy to be roaming the _true_ seas once more, no longer confined to the flat, shimmering lakes of the World-Beneath-The-Water. They had been happy enough to give a ride to their alpha, especially, they’d told him, if it meant nearing the strange human-island from the legends of the Guardians, ones Toothless had told and that the other Ancients—Bright-Scale Stormfly, Fire-Song Hookfang, Smoke-And-Flame Barf-and-Belch, Gentle-Heart Meatlug—had spread at every turn, reminding their people that good humans who loved them _did_ exist. He hoped that Half-of-Me would be happy that his people’s mission had remained with them throughout the centuries, and that Toothless’s own kind had learned and honored the names _Hiccup, Astrid, Stoick, Valka_ and all those from their past as heroes.

New Berk had become a strange and shining city, a mixture of ancient houses built into the trees and cliffs and crystalline buildings far beyond any technology Toothless had seen in Little-One’s country. His heart had swelled with a strange nostalgia, even as his wings ached for the old Berk with its guardian statues and the cove that he had first met Half-of-Me in, a place so sacred that he had forbidden, in his grief, any other dragon from roosting there—even his hatchlings.

He had bowed his head to the towering statue of Half-of-Me’s sire, slinking from shadow to shadow like he himself was nothing more than darkness. His paws guided him to a place his mind did not remember, a home as close to the sky as it could possibly be. The windows had been open, Terrible Terrors dozing on the sills as the Chieftess (he had stopped and stared at her, momentarily captivated—so many generations of humans and dragons passed, and yet her face was the same shape as Half-of-Me’s, her hair the precise color of Storm-Queen-Astrid’s) slept beside a Triple Stryke, her hand resting over the dragon’s wing as though she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to know the bond her ancestors had created.

Half-of-Me, he’d known, would have wept with joy to see his people flying through the skies again. For a moment, Toothless had wanted to stay in this place so familiar and yet alien, but he’d known as soon as the thought entered his mind: he never could. Not if it meant leaving Little-One.

He’d crept down steps of dark wood, silence learned from years in the death-sleep and a near-decade ensuring Little-One was the only one who saw him—and then he’d seen it.

It was somehow in perfect condition, the brilliant scarlet bold and bright against the oaken wall, hanging over a carving of the crest Half-of-Me had fashioned for his clan after they had been forced to part. The fin and the rig attached, the beloved saddle, the smooth leather well cared-for after all this time, were stretched over a carved likeness of himself, perched on a rafter and watching serenely.

Dragons did not weep in quite the same way as humans did, but Toothless had felt his eyes burn with tears anyway, blue and silver blurring his vision as he choked them back. Half-of-Me had ensured that he would watch over his children for all eternity, just as Toothless had told stories of the great Guardian in the True-Skies above to his hatchlings. They had made each other into the heroes of their offspring’s lives.

Toothless had gazed into the carving’s eyes, before leaping silently up into the rafters and tugging it free, fin and all. He clutched it in his maw, took one last look around the beautiful room— _Half-of-Me’s home, Half-of-Me’s people, a true king among humans—_ and vanished into the night.

The journey to what was now _home_ had been even more arduous, Toothless struggling to keep the flight rig undamaged while hurrying back as fast as he could. He’d wanted to be there when Little-One returned, to surprise him, to tell him the _truth_ and see those brilliant golden eyes, so full of wonder and hope and curiosity, light up. To hear that fiery, shockingly _strong_ voice call him by name. To finally, _finally_ fly with him, to feel the wind rushing beneath his wings and hear Little-One’s strong, youth-bright heartbeat pounding in tandem with his own. To be whole.

At last he was _here_ , the rig in his mouth as he approached the doorstep (it felt strange to be going through the door rather than Little-One’s window, but instinct was roaring at him that he _had_ to), but something felt… _wrong._ The air felt heavy and taut, like the sky before a storm, dread prickling over his scales as he carefully deposited the flight rig and fin on the doorstep and nosed the door open. _“Little-One?”_ he called; he knew full well that his human couldn’t understand him (yet), but he knew the sounds Toothless made and would surely react…wouldn’t he?

Except there was no answer, no response—no pound of feet on the steps, no excited cry, no skinny human arms thrown around his neck as his boy whispered _iknewyou’dcomebackiknewit._ Nothing but silence, nothing but a house that felt strangely hollow compared to the one Toothless had left all those months ago. Warily, he padded into the house, nostrils flaring as he was bathed in the warmth of their strange electric lights, and inhaled slowly—

And froze.

That scent—ozone, crackling and sharp like Little-One’s blue-light-alchemy…and the heavy, iron tang of _blood._ And beneath it, a scent like citrus and rainstorms, like the salt of the sea and the honeyed burn of sunlight.

_Little-One—_

Curiosity and worry turned to sheer _panic,_ scratching wildly at the undersides of his scales as it charged through his heart like lightning, a scream of _terror_ ripping from his throat as his calm vanished under a wave of panic. He barely realized he was moving, running, feeling nothing but that overwhelming fear as he followed that scent of blood and ozone and honey, bounding through halls he barely recognized. Sounds filtered into his range, ones he hadn’t quite noticed before—halting gasps and the half-hitched breathing that meant great pain or sorrow, Littermate choking out _“Brotherbrotherbrother”_ over and over again, the scent of blood and ozone starting to overwhelm the scent of _Little-One._

Toothless’s lungs hitched with grief and he howled as the scent intensified, Littermate’s frantic whispering growing louder as Little-One’s breathing grew raspier, fainter. _No, no—not him, I cannot lose him, stars and moon and sky please I beg you, hold on Little One hold on just a little longer—_

There was a door in front of him, sickly-sweet _fear_ and cloying-iron _blood_ and sharp-crackling _ozone_ turning steadily to _rust,_ and beneath it all the scent of honey and rainstorms. Toothless rammed his shoulder into it with another wordless _scream;_ it shuddered, but did not budge, and he _roared_ in heart-stopping _panic. No—not again, not again—_

_Little-One Little-One Little-One please hold on my Little-One my everything—_

A blue glow washed over the walls as they closed in, imprisoning him, keeping him from his Little-One—his _hatchling._ Toothless barely noticed, barely _cared_ as he drew greedily on the Alpha-Spirit within him and let plasma fill his throat, burning hot and blinding-bright.

If he fired—if he fired and Little-One and his Littermate were in the path of his blast, they would _die._

 _A blur of red and green and gray across his path, Human-Alpha-Stoick throwing himself in the path of the blast that would have killed Half-of-Me and destroyed Toothless’s soul, in the end a father protecting his hatchling rather than an alpha protecting his people—Half-of-Me’s fury and grief, Toothless’s horror as the cold act of a hollow-kill, a_ murder, _stained him, the knowledge he could never take this back—_

If he didn’t…

 _Half-of-Me’s face, peaceful in death, Toothless wailing his grief to the skies—he should have been there and he wasn’t, and now all he could do was burn the brother of his soul, the one whose heart he knew even better than his mate’s, the one he had_ abandoned— _the body of a human in the late winters of their life blurring to one so small and fragile that they could only be a hatchling, blood dribbling from the corners of lips stretched in a surprised “O”, closed eyes of green morphing to wide-open ones of gold forever glazed over in a look of betrayal and fear, and Toothless could only scream and scream as Little-One’s broken body laid before him—_

The blast flew from his throat, slamming the door away—there was a crash, perhaps it flew though the wall, Toothless didn’t know didn’t care—and he bounded through the smoke with a shriek, gasping. There was a frightened gasp— _Littermate’s, not Little-One’s—_ and Toothless gagged on the scent of blood, so thick and heavy in the room it seemed a poison of its own.

He beat his wings furiously, trying to clear the smoke away, to smell something other than blood and fire—and froze in horror at what awaited him amidst the blood and rot.

There was a circle, a circle that screamed _wrongwrongwrong_ at him, a circle that spoke of arcane, terrible things—it was a science, Little-One had told him, once, this was a science, the kind of thing Half-of-Me would have adored, but the circle was twisted and wrong and everything in Toothless told him that whatever it was would not have worked, _could_ not have worked because it challenged the gods of every species he knew. Within the circle was…was a _creature,_ the thing that stunk of rot and poison, a mangled thing that was neither human nor dragon—was _nothing,_ wasn’t meant to _live,_ with bones on the outside of its body and black bile gliding steadily down its chin.

_Little-One, what did you do?_

He bounded around the circle as the last of the smoke cleared away, a keening cry of grief rising in his throat as the blood he’d smelled—so _much_ of it—touched his claws, slipping over his scales with a terrible, sickening sensation. Wild, frightened scarlet eyes watched him, a strange creature cloaked in steel that smelled of Littermate ( _molasses and ice and riptide, a Changewing lying hidden in the grass, most dangerous when everyone thought it docile)_ letting out a choked cry and clutching a tiny, _tiny_ human hatchling to its chest, blood dripping down the front of its armor where the hatchling’s wounds touched his. “Wh—d-don’t touch my brother, _stay away,_ p-please—leave him alone, leave him _alone—!”_

Littermate. The creature of pure steel was _Littermate,_ that sweet hatchling Toothless had sometimes glimpsed with eyes like setting suns and a smile like the warmth of Half-of-Me’s hearth turned to this strange metal _thing,_ the scent Toothless remembered touched with a heavy metallic tang. Toothless flattened his ears instinctively, crooning a distressed whimper— _have to get closer, have to, but he doesn’t know me doesn’t trust me Little-One please keep breathing please._

Because if this—this being with its glowing red eyes and trembling shoulders and hands of leather and cold steel was _Littermate,_ then the hatchling he held…the hatchling was _Little-One._ Which meant that Little-One was bleeding, was _dying,_ and Toothless was about to _lose him—_

“B-bud?”

 _Little-One Little-One Little-One—_ Toothless crept closer with a warbling noise to let his beloved Little-One know he was there, icy _fear_ pound-pound-pounding at his ancient heart as the hatchling stirred weakly in Littermate’s arms, lifting his head and blinking red-rimmed golden eyes at him lethargically, as if even that slight movement was an effort. He stopped short, trembling as Little-One blinked at him again, paws soaking in his soul-hatchling’s blood. _I’m here I’m here I’m here._

Little-One gazed at him for a moment longer—before a strange, blissful smile crossed his face, the same Toothless had seen on— _on the face of Half-of-Me’s corpse._ “You came…b-back…”

Toothless took that as permission to rush forward, hurrying to his side and frantically licking his cheek, testing the pulse of blood under the skin, the beating of such a strong human heart in his fragile chest. A sort of hysterical amusement followed by an equally hysterical _grief_ swarmed him at the sight of the source of the blood—a missing arm, and a missing leg. _Look at that, Half-of-Me,_ he thought wildly, warbling nonsensical comforts he knew the hatchling couldn’t understand. _He’s outdone both of us._

His pulse was slowly—dropping—

Toothless keened in terror, lashing his tail as Little-One’s frighteningly calm golden gaze stayed on him, his remaining hand gently patting his shoulder. “I knew you’d c-come back,” he whispered, an echo of the words he’d said when Toothless had followed him to the den all those years ago— _I knew you were real, I knew it!_ “M’sorry, bud…s’all my f-fault…”

No—no, no, _no—_

 _“Look at me, Little-One, look at me,”_ he babbled frantically, lapping more fiercely at his cheek, as if he could speed his heart, strengthen it with will alone. _“Didn’t you promise me we’d fly, Little-One? Eyes on me, you’re not dying, you’ll be okay—Little-One, Little-One, please be strong just a little longer, I love you, I love you, I love you.”_

Golden eyes were fluttering closed, glazed with exhaustion and pain. Littermate was in too much shock to move, to do _anything—_ and Little-One was _dying._

_Little-One is dying._

_Little-One is—_

Distantly, Toothless remembered standing beside the spirit of Half-of-Me, watching Little-One as he slept peacefully, young and safe and unafraid. _He will need you,_ he’d said, sad and sure, green eyes shining with grief. _We had a long, hard road ourselves, bud, but his is gonna be just as long and just as hard, if not harder and longer. He’s going to be so great, so wonderful, a champion of humans and dragons and you and him, you’ll build the world we never could—but before he can fly, he’s going to fall. You’re going to need each other—but when that happens, he’s going to need you more than anything._

With a sudden, terrible clarity, Toothless knew: _this_ was the fall Hiccup had warned him of. This was the true beginning of that long, hard journey, the fire that would forge him into that champion. He already needed Little-One more than he dared to admit to himself—but now Little-One needed him to _survive._

And Toothless would do anything to keep his Little-One safe.

Toothless pulled back, his heart breaking as Little-One whimpered, eyes pulling open again as if by some monumental effort, looking immediately lost without scales beneath his hands and leashed lightning dancing beneath his shaking fingertips. _“It’s okay,”_ he crooned. _“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay now.”_

_We will always be together._

Toothless reached deep within himself, to that place he hadn’t let anyone touch since Half-of-Me, since Hiccup, since he’d offered him that complete and total trust in the sanctity of their cove all those years ago, and _opened it._ The fires and storms and quiet, faceted nights of his soul reached out for that flickering one before him, the glimmering starlight coming far too close to winking out, the glow of a glorious conflagration and the crash of a magnificent ocean reigniting as dragonfire and lightning and darkness twined around them. As his soul found its human match for the first time in five hundred years, Toothless closed his eyes and spoke:

_“I offer my soul, my heart, my wings and fire to Edward Elric of the humans. I offer him anything, everything that I am, my loyalty undying and my love unyielding. I offer him the truth of myself, the burden of our eternal allegiance, the weight of the alliance between our peoples. I offer him our destinies twined together, inseparable._

_“I offer all that I have to my Little-One—the strength, the will, the courage of a Night Fury, the responsibilities, judgement, and wisdom of an Alpha, the weakness, recklessness, and fears of the individual. I offer him my friendship and my love. I offer all of me, the good and the bad, the light and the dark, to him, and ask only for all of him, his good and bad, his light and dark, in return._

_“I offer you the soulbond, Edward Elric, my Little-One.”_

Nothing, for a moment.

Then starlight and wildfire and oceans wrapped around dragonfire and lightning and shadows, and Toothless felt a gentle human hand brush his muzzle—and just like that, they were _one._ Stars and shadows and wildfire and dragonfire and ocean and lightning became one magnificent soul shared between two bodies, and Toothless could only quake as a rush of emotions _(guiltfearpainlove)_ from his human— _his human!—_ rushed through him, a slough of memories not his own following. And their souls— _soul,_ what had once been separate now twined so tightly that it was impossible to separate one from the other—singing together: _Whole again whole again we are whole at last—_

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, feeling Little-One’s flyaway soul settle back into his body, anchored by Toothless’s, the pound of that brave, beautiful heart growing stronger—more time bought by their bond, though he still needed the aid of human medicine. Golden eyes met his, tears spilling down his cheeks as his lips spread in a brilliant smile, full of such _life_ that Toothless felt a wild wave of euphoria sweep through him and into Little-One, felt like singing his joy to the skies.

Ed smiled, face wet with tears and eyes glowing like stars in the shadows, and whispered. “Hi, Toothless.”

Toothless purred, dragon-tears of silver and blue streaking down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to his human’s. _“Hello, Little-One.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOULBOND ACHIEVED. Now Ed just has to go through...all of canon, but now with Toothless! And dragons! And...everything else!
> 
> I don't know when I'll have the next fic in the series ready--life is getting h e c t i c and i'm running out of buffer chapters for conflicted (yikes!)--but rest assured, it's coming! If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. As always, please leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I hope to see you soon!


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